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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



VERSE AND WORSE 







NORAH LEE HAYMOND 



VERSE ato WORSE 

BY 

Norah Lee HflYriOND 




NEW YORK 

PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 

1918 



**A* 



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Copyright, 1918 
Bv Norah Lee Raymond 



JUN 20 i 9 18 






*o 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Just As I Am 1 

With the Dusk 6 

A Rhapsody 11 

Love's Death 13 

Two Suitors 18 

Lost 21 

Will You Remember 25 

Too Late 27 

Dear One 29 

Despair 31 

I Kiss You 35 

Farewell 36 

Redemption 38 

The Mistress 39 



By conforming to meter and form, poems 
of passion lose their fire and strength and 
become meaningless words. 



JUST AS I AM 



Dedicated to myself 

T'M not pretty nor ugly, I'm just sort 
of plain, 

An every day sort of girl. 

I love music, a good book, some quiet 
life, 

Yet a little of society's whirl. 



I talk some, play better, and dance 
With some show of grace. 
So I think I'm just unpopular because 
Of my plain little sallow face, 
l 



I do everything I ever heard of 
That a girl's supposed to do, 
Drive, ride, swim, skate, 
In sports I excel, it's true. 

My friends all say I'm clever 

When they read my jingles and 
rhymes, 

My verses and songs and stories 

Of love and adventures and crimes. 



They say, "I wish I could dance like 
you." 

And, "It's wonderful the way you 
play." 

Then they walk away to their tea or 
dinner 

And leave me alone all day. 



And I sit by my fire alone, 

And think and dream and plan 

For the day when some one will come 
along 

To take me just as I am. 



3 






There isn't a soul I know of — 

From the end of the Earth to the 
end — 

In whose heart I hold first place. 

I'm just an acquaintance, — a friend. 

Yet I'm starving for love and atten- 
tion, 

Starving for some one to care, 

Starving for just some small part 

In the gay life out there. 



I'm a woman in mind and body, 

And with the passion that's in my 
soul, 

The love and companionship I'd give 
a man 

Can neither be bought nor sold. 



But I'm an after-thought, just an 
after-thought. 

Isn't that sad to you ? 

To be thought of just when every 
one else 

Has been thought of ahead of you? 



WITH THE DUSK 

Dedicated to Billie 

VOU come to me always with the 
dusk, 

That's why I love it so; 

When the shadows lengthen, and the 
day has gone 

Where all the days must go, — 

Into the making of a past, 

That each one of us must own ; 

And some are good while some are 
bad 

With sins for which to atone. 

6 






Now you and I, we've sinned and 
sinned— 

In the eyes of all the folks, 

Because we've given each other of 
love 

Nor saddled ourselves with yokes. 

It's really amusing to try to figure 

What the world calls wrong, or right, 

In the giving and taking of the treas- 
ures of love, 

In the darkness, in the light. 



Wrong unless fetters of iron-bound 
law 

Hold Cupid hard and fast, 

And thus must two who really hate 

Cling together until the last. 

Now for instance, there's you and I, 

They say we've done wrong, dear, 

Because there's no fetter outside of 
my love 

To bring and hold you here. 



Yet, with the dusk you always come, 

And I am always waiting. 

There couldn't be in this whole world 

A happier, more perfect mating. 

And if our lot be atonement for sin 

In the shaking of life's dice — 

Having known your love, makes it 
well worth while. 

I am willing to pay the price. 



A RHAPSODY 

To P. L. F. 

VOU go to my head like wine, 

You wonderful, wonderful girl. 

One tiny kiss from your passionate 
lips 

Sets my every sense a-whirl. 

The touch of your hands against 
mine, 

Is so maddeningly, poignantly sweet, 

That insane with adoration, 

I kiss your dear little feet. 

11 



I should die if you were unyielding, 
Or even passive cold. 
But you answer my caresses 
With a wealth of passion untold. 

I don't believe that Heaven — 
Knows a greater bliss than this, 
Just holding you always in my arms 
And feeling you thrill with my kiss. 



12 



LOVE'S DEATH 

Dedicated to A. B. S. 

WINTER and cold bleak darkness, 
Shadows everywhere, 

The whistling, roaring winds are 
screaming, 

Death is in the air. 

Like a poisonous serpent it creeps 
along, 

Ready with deadly bite, 

To destroy all things too weak and 
frail, 

To combat its fatal might. 

13 



The little brown and curled-up leaves 

That rustle around my feet 

Are dead, and they carry death's dry, 
dull song, 

With them along the street. 

The naked limbs of all the trees — 

Are writhing with the cold, 

But they have died that they may live 
again 

New glories to unfold. 

Each delicate, lovely, little flower, 
Tinted and scented today, 
Is gone to-morrow forever, 
It's beauty withered and grey. 
14 



And so it is with my poor soul, 

The icy hand of death — 

Is clutching and clawing, trying to 
destroy 

The little life that's left. 

'Tis the icy hand of a selfish love 

That took all and gave no return, 

That's clutching and clawing at my 
heart 

With fingers that freeze and burn. 



15 



I'll always look on the beauties of 

Spring 
With pity in my eye, 
Knowing that Winter will claim them 

all 
They must give up their beauty and 

die. 

And the very Sun that's wooed them 
And kissed them in the Spring, 
Looks on in coldness when the wintry 

winds 
Their death song begins to sing. 

And love — like Winter, 
With its scorching breath, 
After taking and tiring 
To the heart brings death. 

16 



TWO SUITORS 

]" AM a woman, fair to behold, 

Two suitors have come to me ; 
One is rich, in measures of gold, 
While the other is poor you see. 

They each want my future, 

To have and to hold forever and a 
day; 

Now, the question arises, which shail 
I wed — 

Which shall I send away? 
18 






The one who is rich in measures of 
gold, 

Is old, and feeble, and ill, 

In yielding to him, my body is sold 

For comfort and ease, without thrill. 

I'd have my own car, and castles and 
gems, 

Everything money can buy. 

But whenever I think of the touch of 
him, 

I always shiver and sigh. 



19 



My other suitor, the one who is poor, 

As the world counts, in measures of 
gold, 

Is rich in the priceless possession of 
youth, 

With health and strength untold. 

My heart goes out to him who is 
young, 

For youth will call to youth, 

I have weighed them and found riches 
wanting, 

I shall marry for love, and truth. 



20 



LOST 

XT AVE you ever stopped to ponder, 

Stopped to think — stopped to 
wonder 

At the devilish fascination of the 

flesh- 
When you feel your arms are holding 

Softly closing — close, enfolding, to 
your heart 

Her form of dainty grace? 

You think not then of the why nor 
wherefore 

Of passion, and its all-consuming fire. 

You only know you hold the flesh that 

Answers your desire. 

21 



There is no thought of morrow 'till the 
dawn begins to spread 

And peeping thro' the drawn shade 
lights her dusky head. 

Why does sadness linger where such 
bliss has been, 

Does conscience always taunt one 
with its endless noisy din? 

Or, are there other Gypsy souls as 
free from care as I — 

Who give, and take to the utmost 
dregs, and all the laws defy ? 



22 



Why turn away from passion, why let 
it pass you by — 

Always in the future with keen regret 
to sigh? 

Why miss the thrill — the madness — 
of that wondrous, throbbing 
pain, 

That thru endless years of yielding 
may not be yours again? 

Take what life will give, weighing 
neither time nor cost — 

Lest — thru anticipation — 'tis forever 
— lost. 



23 



WILL YOU REMEMBER 

J CANNOT forget that one scarlet 
kiss — 

My lips were burning slaves of pas- 
sion, 

Yours, passive cold. 

Do you remember? 

It was at parting that it came, by 
you all unsought — 

But, ah, it was in answer to my pray- 
er for touch of you. 



25 



Can you remember? 

You would have passed me by, 

Little dreaming that the watching 
fates 

Would make you yield to my desire. 

You bent and placed upon my lips 

That one scarlet kiss (I cannot for- 
get). 

Were you conscious of the touch of 
my lips on your mouth? 

Will you remember? 



26 



TOO LATE 

TWO big, wonderful eyes of brown, 

Untouched as yet by love ; 
But wide-open, frank, the gaze of a 

child, 
Or is it the angels above ? 

I stand apart, just two eyes of blue, 

Longing to come nearer; 

To look long and deep in those wells 

of truth, 
Ah, nothing could be dearer. 

To look long and deep, to call to life 
The passion I know they're masking ; 
To see them answer my call of love, 
To know all were mine for the asking. 

27 



I wonder — who will be the first, 
To awaken that wonderful gleam, 
To lift the veil of innocence, 
To teach them to live, to dream. 

To see that first wild startled look 
At the first clear call of their mate; 
To see the tender after-glow 
As they falter and hesitate. 

Oh, I wish it were these eyes of blue 
Could do this wonderful thing; 
But they are young, on the threshold 

of life 
While I'm old, and I've had my fling. 
28 



DEAR ONE 

"HEAR ONE, the purple night draws 

nigh, 
The shadows lengthen even as I sigh, 
Do you remember, do you recall, 
How I always came to you for love's 

sweet cheer, 
When night brought its secret dread, 

its hidden sighs and tears? 



29 



I seem to see your dear blue eyes, 

And hear your laughing voice, 

As you hold me close and drive away 
my fears ; 

But I am all alone, fearing the night, 
Dear One, 

For you've forgotten — 

Oh, come to me across the purple 
night and leave me never- 
more, 

And leave me nevermore, Dear One. 



30 



DESPAIR 

Dedicated to a woman of the streets 
I once knew 

m 
rPHE night is here, the dark, dark 

night, 

With all its shadows drear. 

Alone, I lie upon my silken couch, un- 
loved, unsought — 

Yet, for one single word of love, could 
my whole soul be bought. 

I've sold my body o'er and o'er 

To men who didn't care, 

They've wanted only passion, 

Not life's more precious ware. 

31 



Not one of them has ever tried 

My heart or soul to find, 

They seem to think there is no soul 

In a woman of my kind. 

They think I'm just a toy, 

A thing made to amuse, 

Or in their drunken passions 

To annoy and abuse. 

Like a common slave, 

I've been bought and sold ; 

To each man's pleasure 

For jewels and gold. 

I've drunk to the dregs of sordidness 

From passion's tinsel flask — 

With not one real love in my whole 

life 
As sunshine in which to bask. 
32 



There may be those who envy me 

My jewels and earthly joy — 

But Fd give them all for the love of 

a man 
And the right to a baby boy. 
To be the wife of one good man 
Who'd love me alone, no other — 
To know the touch of baby hands 
And voices calling me "mother." 



33 



But I sigh and sigh in vain, 
For no one beneath the Sun, 
Doth ask for my heart, my soul, my 

love — 
It's mere pleasure they want, and fun. 
Fve stolen away here all alone 
The rest of my earthly days — 
I'll spend in prayer and penitence, 
For my past and it's wicked ways. 
Maybe in the other world to come 
My soul-mate I shall meet, 
I purge my soul of its wickedness, 
It shall be clean to lay at his feet. 



34 



I KISS YOU 

J KISS your hair, each golden strand 

A thrill unto my inmost soul 
doth send. 

I kiss your eyes, their glance so pure 

Doth call anew and fresh enchant- 
ment lend, 

I kiss your rosy palms, your dainty 
finger tips each one; 

And then upon your lips, twin, scar- 
let poppy buds — 

At last I kiss you, ah, I kiss you. 
35 



FAREWELL 

T EAVE me all alone to die, a weary 
Lotus eater I 
Upon this Isle. 
As the crimson poppy sleeps, o'er my 
soul this langour creeps, 
I crave rest. 
Weary of life's dreary pace, I rest at 

last — 
While memories flock my endless 

dreams to grace. 
I lie here day by day alone, where the 
Lotus dust is blown. 
36 



The kindly winds will soothe my soul, 
and then the price of death 
extol. 
Around my neck I feel your arms, but 
your lovely earthly charms 
Cannot undo what Fate has done, the 
Lotus bud its work's begun. 
While I answer your desire, this crav- 
ing which is scorching fire, 
Consumes me. 
On my bed of Asphodel, I'm sinking 
slowly into Hell, 
Farewell. 

37 



REDEMPTION 

A LTHO' I've said to you, "farewell, 

Through sin I go to death." 
In penitence I cry aloud 
With each faint, gasping breath. 

For my sinful weakness, 
Now I must atone. 
I go to Purgatory — 
To suffer there alone. 

In cleanliness my soul shall soar — 
The day of my release, 
To meet you, in the promised land 
Of Celestial love and Peace. 

38 



THE MISTRESS 

Dedicated with respect to B. Y. 

T'M only his mistress — 

That despicable thing 
That all good women 
Call low and mean. 

I have no soul, 

In good folks' eyes, 

I'm only made 

To fear and despise. 

While his wife's in her mansion 
Glittering and bright, 
Entertaining, carousing, 
All thru' the night. 
39 



Fm alone in my cosy little nest, 
Thinking of all he loves the best. 
And I try, when he comes in at night, 
To have everything comfy and just all 
right. 

And if his step is slow and tired 
Then I know his day's been weary and 

hard 
And I humor his moods with tender- 

est care, 
I climb on his knee and ruffle his hair. 

I rub my cheek 'gainst his stubby 

chin, 
And worry 'cause he looks so worn 

and thin. 
With my hands — I caress his face, 
And try those weary lines to erase. 

40 



He looks at me and his tender smile 
Just lights his face, and after awhile 
His arms will tighten, I'll know his 

kiss 
As I give my lips in perfect bliss. 

Sometimes I grieve when I'm alone, 
That I have no children, have no 

home, 
I've given up all that my heart craves 
Because we are convention's slaves. 

But I never let him see my tears, 
Nor tell him of my frights and 

fears — 
Of all this world he loves me best, 
He comes to me for love and rest. 

41 



When he's near and I feel his arms, 
Away with fears, doubts and alarms. 
I rest 'gainst his heart like a tired 

child 
And yield to his kisses tender or wild. 

But oh, I adore him soul and body, 
And tho' the world calls this same 

love, "shoddy," 
I'd give my life to save him pain, 
I'd die for him, over and over again. 

His wife has his name, 
But I have his love ; 
And I know, by all the gods above 
That I'm his mate even more than she, 
Now tell me, which would you rather 
be? 

42 



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